


Black Forest Cake

by cheshirejin



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirejin/pseuds/cheshirejin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Popped Cherries, in which a conversation between France and Germany was misunderstood by N. Italy, but it can be read on its own merit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Forest Cake

“Germany! Oh Gerrrrmannnyyyyy!” Italy shouted as he entered the house. There was the scent of baking in the air.

“I am in the kitchen,” Germany announced.

Italy made his way to the kitchen to join his good friend. It smelled delicious in there like chocolate and good things and he was already looking forward to whatever treat was being prepared this time.

“I will be done here in just a minute,” Germany said, not looking up from where he was spooning something lumpy and red into a ring made of chocolate and whipped cream atop a large layer cake. It looked delicious and smelled even better.

“Ve, what are you making?” Italy asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“This is a Black Forest cake,” Germany said, adding a dollop of whipped cream to the center of the cake and topping it with a single cherry. “I made it for you, from the cherries you gave me yesterday,” he added, tightening the lid on a bottle of kirschwasser, before placing it into a nearby cabinet, and continuing to tidy up the last bit of the things he had used in making the cake.

“The cake is beautiful, and it looks soo yummy! Thank you, Germany!” Italy said, flinging himself into Germany’s chest and hugging him before backing off and asking, “Is it a special occasion?”

“No, not really,” Germany replied.

“Then, did you have fun baking it?” Italy asked.

“Well, I guess, I like baking well enough. I am not sure I would say I had fun though,” Germany answered, dreading where he knew this was going.

“Then why didn’t you pop them instead?”

“Because I can’t,” Germany said, with as much of a sense of finality to it as he could manage.

“Why?”

“Because it doesn’t work that way.”

“Why?”

“It just doesn’t.”

“But Mr. France said…”

“Don’t ever listen to what Mr. France says!” Germany barked, the idea of what that pervert would try to talk _his_ Italy into bothered him, the fact that he had just thought of Italy as _his_ annoyed him even more.

“Why?”

“What are you, six?” Germany shouted into Italy’s face out of sheer frustration.

“But…but I don’t understand,” Italy whined, looking like he was about to cry.

Germany slapped his open palm upside his forehead and slowly dragged it down as if it could wipe some of the frustration away that way. “Okay, let me try to explain this to you,” he said, taking a deep breath and then letting it out in a gusty sigh, before continuing. “There is no way to pop cherries like you would popcorn, they would just burn. What Mr. France was saying was a euphemism for something else.”

“Oh, I see,” Italy said, nodding and smiling vaguely before asking, “For what?”

“Well, f-for losing your urm, _virginity_ ,” Germany managed to stutter and finally choke out in a near whisper, his face burning bright red from neck to scalp.

“Oh, then you are a virgin,” Italy said sagely, shrugging his shoulders and waving his hand in a dismissive gesture, “You’re right, you really couldn’t do that after all. So do you think we can cut the cake now?”

“Yeah,” Germany nodded, relieved that this uncomfortable conversation was finally over. He was reaching for a cake knife when something caught in the mental gears… _Wait, what did he mean by that? Of course, he meant cherries cannot be popped like popcorn right?_

Germany cut two slices off of the cake, serving one to Italy, as his mind churned with further possibilities. _Could it mean that he finally realized what France was talking about and of course I am not going to lose my virginity to my male, Italian friend? Yes, that must be it._

“Ommm, Germany, this cake is delicious.” Italy moaned sensually and smiled around a mouthful of the sweet confection.

_Or was the little sheisskopf lying about being a virgin when we first met?_

  


  



End file.
